


we pick ourselves undone

by hollyvander



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Present Tense, this is my first fic wish me luck!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3548312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyvander/pseuds/hollyvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lovesick Pedro oversleeps and Balthazar isn't mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we pick ourselves undone

Pedro is considering swearing off music. He doesn't need it the way Balthy does. For Pedro, music is the backdrop to a good party, something recreational. And yet, at two in the morning, he can't ignore the way every song makes him think of Balthazar. 

He taps shuffle and an unmarked mp3 begins to play. Balthazar's voice rings in his ears but he doesn't turn the volume down. It takes all of Pedro's willpower not to call Balthy right then, to ask him to sing over the phone. Pedro squeezes his eyes shut and tries hard not to think about the day they recorded the song. 

When Pedro wakes up the next day, there is an indentation on his cheek where his earbud cord dug into his skin. The glaring screen of his phone tells Pedro he has missed four calls, all from Balthazar.

"Shit," whispers Pedro. He was supposed to drive Balthazar to a gig two hours ago. Pedro flops backward onto his bed and dials Balthazar.

"Hey Pedro." Over the din of people talking around him, Balthazar sounds tired. 

"I am so sorry I overslept I should have set-" 

"No, it's fine. I called Ursula," says Balthazar. 

Pedro runs a hand through his hair. He still kind of wants to kick himself for being so lovesick he couldn't be a good friend. "How was your gig then?"

"Boring," Balthazar laughs. "The old people seemed to like my set but I'm not sure if that's a good thing."

"You shouldn't call them old people. They're, like, elders or retired folks. And of course they liked it. You were the one singing."

What Balthazar says then is obscured by Pedro's inner monologue. He wonders if that was too cheesy, if he was being too obvious and, inexplicably, if Balthazar was wearing his favorite blue sweater.

"Pedro? Did you hear me? I was wondering if you could pick me up?"

Shit. "Oh yeah, of course. Just let me get dressed."

-

In the car, Pedro does not play music. He considers turning on talk radio but decides that it's a bit too drastic of a measure. 

Instead he stares straight ahead and does not think about how sweet it is that Balthazar played at a retirement home. 

Balthazar is standing on the curb. His guitar is slung backwards over his shoulder and, oh no, he's wearing The Blue Sweater. 

"Hi," says Balthazar. 

"Balthy, I am so sorry."

"What? No, it's fine. Can we turn on some music?" Balthazar's sweater sleeves are pulled over his hands. Pedro tries very hard not to imagine rolling those sleeves up just a little and holding his hand.

"Sure," he says. 

Balthazar flicks through radio stations. "I don't think I could stand listening to oldies right now," he groans. 

Eyes on the road, Donaldson. 

"Oh, this is good," says Balthazar. 

It's one of the songs on Pedro's unmarked "Songs That Make Me Want to Throw Up Because Balthazar" playlist.

And then, because the universe really doesn't like Pedro Donaldson right now, Balthazar starts to sing along. 

He starts quietly, just singing the chorus under his breath. But by the second verse, he and Pedro are yelling the lyrics and gesturing wildly.

Pedro mimes holding a microphone and turns towards Balthazar.

"You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve. And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground," he laughs, slightly hysterical. 

The song that made Pedro want to throw his phone across the room just last night was making Balthazar laugh uncontrollably. 

When they pull into Balthazar's driveway, the song isn't over. They keep singing, and when it does end, Balthazar makes no move to leave. 

"Thanks," he says. 

"Thanks? I forgot to drive you in the first place," Pedro sighs. 

"Pedro, it's fine. Really." 

"Okay," Pedro says. Being close to Balthazar is suddenly overwhelming again. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course." Balthazar waves and his stupid sweater sleeve slides down his arm. 

Pedro knows he's been listening to too much indie white guys singing about love because he grabs Balthazar's wrist. 

Balthazar sucks in a breath and Pedro can feel it. He can feel the blood coursing through Balthazar's veins and can see it coloring his cheeks. 

"I'm sorry about everything, okay?" says Pedro. "I'm sorry about all the shit with Hero and I'm sorry I didn't know what was wrong with John and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"Breathe, Pedro." Balthazar sounds nervous. "I accept your apologies." He smiles and twists his fingers so they intertwine with Pedro's. 

The angle is all wrong and Pedro almost honks the car horn, but he twists in his seat and leans in to kiss Balthazar. 

Wet lips meet his own chapped ones and the kiss isn't perfect but Balthazar is holding his hand and a new song is starting, so it kind of is. 

Balthazar laughs against his mouth and pulls away. "If you try to apologize for being a bad kisser, I swear to-"

"I'm a bad kisser?" asks Pedro.

"The absolute worst," says Balthazar solemnly.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first AO3 and NMTD fic so any feedback is really helpful.
> 
> The title is taken from Flaws by Bastille because Pedro and I are trash.
> 
> I honestly have no idea why Balthazar couldn't drive himself to the gig but feel free to assume his car broke down.


End file.
